


Cover

by zebraljb



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-08
Updated: 2011-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebraljb/pseuds/zebraljb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orlando's a celebrity.  Viggo's a bodyguard.  A request from a LOTR SeSa way back when.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cover

COVER

 

“All clear.” Blue eyes turned to look at the young man behind him in the doorway. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Flashbulbs popped as the man smiled and waved at the screaming mass of people.

Viggo Mortensen sighed, putting down his radio and leaning in the doorway of the conference room. This was a bad idea and he knew it. He was paid, quite handsomely, to keep the young man safe and sound. Doing an open press conference without the press was a BAD idea. No professionals, no reporters who knew right from wrong. Just a room full of contest winners who had dropped their name in a box and won the chance to ask the object of their psychotic affection one single question.

Said object of affection was now sitting down at a small table at the front of the room, smiling at the room as a whole. His dark curls framed a slender face which held dark eyes and a bright smile. Long legs encased in baggy blue jeans stretched out under the table, and his hands were folded nicely on the table top. He wore a cream colored thermal shirt with an Army green t-shirt over top that read “It’s not the size of the weapon but the ammo in the cannon.” A floppy matching green hat topped off the strange outfit. “Hello, everyone,” the man said, and the room erupted in screams. Viggo sighed. He hated these things especially because with all the commotion and yelling, if the boy truly needed him, no one would hear him scream for help. “I want to thank you for coming out, but I need to ask a favor.”

“Anything, Orlando!” A girl screamed.

“I know you’re happy to be here, as am I. However, if I spent the whole time waiting for you to quiet down, I wouldn’t have time to answer questions.” Orlando shrugged. “That would be a waste for all of us, wouldn’t it?” A chorus of yeahs filled the room. “Okay, then. I know you’ve all been given a number. We don’t have a whole lot of time, so let’s keep it moving so everyone gets to answer their question, okay?”

Viggo was impressed. Orlando was handling the crowd quite well, keeping it from turning into a full blown mob. As crazy as his young charge drove him most of the time, Viggo had to admit that he had a decent amount of common sense. He watched Orlando handle the crowd, deftly dancing around questions that he wouldn’t answer, such as, “Who are you dating now?” Viggo often wondered that himself. No one was around Orlando more than Viggo, and if Orlando had some sort of a steady girlfriend, they were completely discreet. Viggo knew that Orlando could have had girls by the busload up to his hotel room if he truly wanted, but he never brought one groupie or one screaming fan upstairs.

Orlando Bloom was attractive. There was no denying it. He was tall and slender, with a dancer’s body and an angel’s face. Everything about him was lithe and rhythmic, from the cadence of his voice to the curls of his hair. Viggo often woke up with the feeling of those curls between his fingers, and then promptly fell asleep cursing himself. You didn’t fall for your clients. You REALLY didn’t fall for your straight clients.

“Hi, Orlando, my name’s Leslie,” an older girl was saying. She seemed to be about twenty, and looked as if she might have actually had two brain cells to rub together.

“Hello, Leslie,” Orlando said with a charming smile.

“We’ve all heard the rumors about the record deal. I was just wondering whose idea it was, if you’d be writing on the album, what genre you’d be working in, and what made you decide to go down that road.”

Orlando blinked, and Viggo knew he was shocked. “Well…you’re certainly well informed, Leslie,” he finally said, laughing a bit. “Yes, the deal is on the table right now.” A few girls shrieked with delight. “I don’t fancy myself to be a singer, to be honest with you. Of course, I’ve done the normal singing in the shower, into my hairbrush in front of my mirror as a kid, things like that. I’m not sure of the songs or the genre yet, so I apologize for not being able to answer that for you.” He smiled a genuine smile, a smile that Viggo saw far too little of. “Why don’t you ask another question to make up for it?”

Leslie looked flustered. “Well, uh, if singing isn’t your dream…what other profession or career would you do, if you had to stop acting tomorrow?”

“I’m interested in art,” Orlando said. “Sculpting, mainly.”

“Thank you,” Leslie said. Orlando nodded and glanced at Viggo, who was looking at his watch. They had forty minutes before they were due somewhere else, and Viggo knew they’d need at least half of that to even get out of the building.

“I’m afraid we only have time for the next person,” Orlando said apologetically. He answered the last question politely, and stood. “Thank you, everyone. I hope you all have a good day.”

The screams started again, and a few of the girls actually surged forward. Hotel security hurried to deflect them, but Viggo headed for his young charge. “Out the door to your left. Limo’s out front. Robin’s waiting for you,” Viggo said low enough for Orlando to hear.

Orlando frowned, tugging his hat down. “Fuck. I don’t want to talk to her. Any chance we can get into a cab and go to the studio that way?” His brown eyes were hopeful as he looked up at Viggo.

Viggo sighed. Public transportation was tricky and unreliable. Orlando was looking weary of late, however, and Viggo could rarely deny him something as long as it didn’t interfere with his personal safety. “Of course.” Viggo flipped a switch on his radio. “Mortensen to Lockhardt.”

“Lockhardt here,” the head of hotel security answered.

“We need a cab out front immediately.” Viggo pulled Orlando by the arm, hurrying him down the hallway.

“I kinda need my arm,” Orlando said, but Viggo ignored him. The door was held open for them. Viggo hurried them out of the hotel and into the waiting taxi. “Ow.” Orlando rubbed his arm. Viggo gave the driver the address and sat back.

“You okay?”

 

“Fine, you big Neanderthal,” Orlando griped.  
“You’re such a baby most of the time.” Viggo rolled his eyes. “Okay, so, about two hours at the TV studio, and then what?”

“Back to the hotel.”

“And?”

“That’s it for today.”

Viggo raised an eyebrow. “Bullshit.”

Orlando grinned. It was so hard to get any sort of emotion out of Viggo besides cold indifference. He considered this a triumph. “It’s not. I’m done for the day.”

“Is that why you’re hiding from Robin?”

“No.” Orlando pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “She wants me to do something I cannot fucking do.”

“Like what? Swim the English Channel? Donate a month’s salary to the poor?” Viggo scoffed.

“Say I have a girlfriend.”

Viggo stared at Orlando, who seemed to get smaller and younger by the minute. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t have one.”

“You could lie.”

“I don’t have one because I don’t want one. Because I want…something else.” Orlando tore off the hat, running his fingers through his hair. “Look, Viggo, I’ve known you for eight months now. This is something we need to talk about, especially since it looks like you’re around for the long haul. Can we talk about it after the interview? Over dinner, in my suite?”

“If you want,” Viggo said, still a bit surprised.

“I want.” Orlando stared out the window.

The interview went smoothly, and two and a half hours later they were back on the road. This time they were in the limo, without Orlando’s manager. Orlando poured himself a stiff drink from the tiny bar and knocked it back in a few swallows. “You really want to show up drunk back at the hotel?” Viggo asked.

“You really think I care?” Orlando shot back. Viggo said nothing. He was used to dealing with the actor’s mood swings. “I’m not in the mood. I’m tired.”

“Aren’t we all,” Viggo mumbled, looking out the window.

Viggo stepped out of the limousine first, looking around for a moment. He held out a hand and waved it a bit, and Orlando stepped out as well. “ORLANDO!” A woman shrieked, running over and tackling him with a hug. Viggo cursed and grabbed her arm. Her hold on Orlando was strong, and she wasn’t giving up. “Orlando, God, I love you! I’ve been waiting all day for you…I’d wait forever.” Her fingers dug into Orlando’s slender waist.

Orlando’s brown eyes were frantic as he looked at Viggo. “Ma’am, please.”

“No. I’m never letting you go. I have you now.”

Viggo did what he hated to do. He had to hurt the woman to get her to let go. He took her by the arms, dug in his own fingers, and squeezed hard until she yelped with pain and let go. Viggo spun her into the arms of the hotel guard who had just run up. “About fucking time!” Viggo spat. He put both arms around Orlando and practically shoved him into the hotel.

A manager hurried over, his words falling over each other. “So sorry…have been keeping them out of the lobby…didn’t see her there…”

“You’ll be hearing about this,” Viggo growled. He kept both arms around Orlando until they were safely in an empty elevator. “Are you okay?”

“Please don’t talk to me right now,” Orlando asked, and Viggo nodded. He led the way down the corridor once the elevator doors opened, and he made a quick check of Orlando’s suite before allowing him in. “I’m going to take a shower. Could you be back here in twenty minutes?” Viggo nodded again, unlocking the door that joined his smaller suite with Orlando’s.

Viggo let himself back into the suite and sat down on the sofa. He had changed into a more comfortable pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Orlando came out of the master bedroom, wearing a pair of blue jeans and an oversized cream-colored sweater. Orlando sat down on the other sofa, facing Viggo. “I’m so sorry, Orlando,” Viggo said immediately. “I should have looked behind that shrubbery. I did a brief visual sweep, and nothing more. I wasn’t paying attention, and that could have gotten you seriously injured.” Viggo studied his hands. “I do not want that to happen again. I understand if you wish to terminate my employment with you.”

“No, Viggo.” Orlando moved over to sit next to Viggo. “That’s the last thing I want. You’re the best security I’ve ever had.”

“You must have had some shitty bodyguards in the past, if I’m the best,” Viggo said. “Look at what happened tonight.”

“It was an accident. No one is perfect, and I came out fairly unscathed.” Orlando rubbed a finger over a cut on his wrist. “Fairly.”

Viggo reached out, catching himself just in time. “Sorry.”

“I feel truly safe with you, Viggo. I feel like you actually CARE about whether I’m all right. You’re not just doing it for the money.” Suddenly Orlando was very close, and Viggo didn’t know what to say. “I won’t lie about having a girlfriend, because I don’t want one. I’m gay, Viggo. I want a boyfriend. I want a MAN. I do not want any woman that Robin throws my way, and she’s getting sick of it, as am I. I’m fully prepared to come out in the press. I’ve made my millions, gotten my name in the largest font imaginable on every movie poster. There isn’t more that I want…except for my own life.” Orlando smiled. “Can you understand that?”

“Yes. I do understand.” Viggo’s heart was racing a mile a minute. Orlando was gay. Orlando was gay and that meant Viggo didn’t have to feel guilty about wanting him every waking and sleeping minute. “You’re…wow. Very good at hiding it.”

“Discretion is a must in my situation, I’m sure you know that.” Orlando stood and began to pace. He actually seemed nervous. “So, dinner.”

“Are you okay? Did she really hurt you?” Viggo was on his feet, grabbing Orlando by the arm. His eyes roamed over Orlando, looking for bruises or serious injuries.

“No, I’m fine. I’m not hurt.” Orlando pulled his arm away. “I’m sorry, Viggo. I hate to say this, hate the words…but I have to let you go.”

“What?” Viggo actually went white. “You said…earlier. You said that firing me was the last thing you wanted.”

“It IS,” Orlando insisted. “But I can’t let you watch over me anymore. I can’t worry about you fighting someone, or, God forbid, you taking a fucking BULLET for me. I can’t do it. I can’t lay awake every night with you on the other side of a door, wondering if you sleep naked or if you have anyone in there with you. I can’t go to another stupid dinner and watch you eying up the girl I’m with.”

Viggo shook his head. “You’re not talking English, Orlando.”

“I’m in love with you, Viggo. Have been from the second fucking day I knew you. I came out to you tonight in this weird hope that maybe you’d…quit.”

Viggo stared at him, not hearing the words. “You’re…huh?”

Orlando smiled briefly. “It’s rare I catch you without something to say. I love you.”

“No. This isn’t happening.”

Orlando sat down hard. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“No, Orli, not like that. No.” Viggo sat down next to him, taking both of the slender hands in his. “I’ve wanted you for ages, Orli. Dreamt about you, woke up hard thinking of you. I…I was so afraid for you today. I didn’t do my job correctly and you could have been hurt.” Viggo let a trembling hand run over Orlando’s head. “If you would have lost one hair on your gorgeous head…”

“You…what?” It was Orlando’s turn to be confused. “You’re…”

“I wasn’t eying up your dates, Orlando. Have you ever looked in a mirror while wearing a tuxedo? You look born to wear it…so sexy. So…”

“Stop talking.” Orlando dropped himself on Viggo’s lap, cupping Viggo’s face in his hands. He gave Viggo a hard, deep kiss, then pulled back. “You’re not straight.” Viggo shook his head. Orlando kissed him again. “You’re not mad at me.” Viggo shook his head once more. Orlando grinned brilliantly and gave Viggo a slow, tender kiss. “You love me.”

“Fuck, yes,” Viggo breathed, staring into Orlando’s eyes. Orlando beamed and kissed him one more time as Viggo’s hands wove through his hair. “I quit,” Viggo whispered. “As of tomorrow morning.”

“You’re fired,” Orlando said, giggling like a little girl as Viggo stood up and started for the bedroom without letting him fall to the floor.

“Tomorrow,” Viggo said, kicking the bedroom door open. “I think you need some personal protection tonight.”

“Definitely,” Orlando murmured into Viggo’s neck, shutting the door with his foot.

THE END


End file.
